Goldfish at the Fox Den

The party at Marcus's house — everyone called it 'the Fox Den' because of that creepy taxidermy fox in the entryway that gave everyone nightmares. I stood by the snack table, picking at an orange slice from the punch bowl, trying to look like I belonged. My therapist said I needed to put myself out there. Whatever that meant.

That's when I saw him — the guy from my AP Bio class, the one who sat three rows back and never spoke. He was wearing this vintage fox sweatshirt, orange thread unraveling at the collar, and he was staring at something with total intensity.

A goldfish.

Someone had brought a goldfish in a bowl — why, I don't know, maybe as some kind of aesthetic choice? And now the fish was flopping on the carpet, gasping, while everyone streamed past like it wasn't there.

Fox-sweatshirt guy dropped to his knees. I was already moving.

We both reached for the fish at the same time. Our hands brushed.

'Water,' he said, looking at me with these intense dark eyes. 'Do you see any water?'

'The punch bowl,' I said, already grabbing a Solo cup.

We worked together, scooping up the poor goldfish and transferring it to what I hoped was enough non-alcoholic punch to keep it alive. The fish swam in circles, looking deeply confused.

'Nice fox sweatshirt,' I said, because my brain had stopped working.

'Thanks,' he said, and then — this is the part I still think about when I can't sleep — he smiled. Actually smiled. 'I'm Jamie.'

'Maya.'

We ended up sitting on the back porch, watching the goldfish recover in its punch-filled cup, talking about everything and nothing. He told me he found the sweatshirt at a thrift store. I told him I only came because my therapist made me. We both laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

The goldfish survived, by the way. Jamie took it home in that Solo cup, and now it lives in a proper tank on his desk. We've been dating for three months.

Sometimes the best things start with someone else's disaster and a rescue mission in an orange fox sweatshirt. You just have to be brave enough to drop to your knees and help.